


Threads Aflame

by EvRain



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Light BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-08 09:30:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14102460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvRain/pseuds/EvRain
Summary: A first encounter between Sombra and Satya in Mexico, with some monstrous elements.





	1. The Bar

Of the many things her mother imparted before she departed for parts unknown in search of her spouse, two stuck in Vi’s mind. The first being that she was a product of a coyote, or snake, scorpion, depending on how her mother felt at the time of telling, and a spider.

Vi wouldn’t understand the literal meaning until much later in her life.

One of the less literal things to take from it, was that she came from two cultures, that clashed, clung, and eventually consummated. That her ‘father’, a title her mother avoided, subbing in cad, con-artist, or scoundrel often, reminded in the forms of, gifts, stories and letters, and other personnel pieces they’d send. They never sent pictures, but would gladly receive, they’d visit, but only when Vi would either be away or asleep.

The only signs of their presence at all being the mood her mother would be in, and things they’d leave behind.

Eternally busy and always absent, it was a strange situation by any standard, but somehow it worked out in the trio of a family. Then one day, far longer than any before, there was no word, not a peep, enough to prompt her mother to disappear in a quest to find him.

Leaving Vi in the care of, not the most law abiding, but safe hands until she was old enough to strike out on her own.

The second was to always get one’s number, especially when warmly received, usually in a bed or similar suited spot. Her mother would add the last part later when talks of the birds and the bees came up, though Vi tended to think of it as a talk of spiders and flies, given her mother’s profession.

Vi that night in her favored dive bar, hoped to get the number of the only other patron, trying to account for the stranger that’d taken a seat further down the counter.

She’d seen similar certainly, people watching being one of her pastimes there, dressed in a snazzy suit, crisp and comparable to a freshly minted coin.

Most that came were on vital business trips, heading to the bar on recommendation, looking for company of one sort or another. More often than not, it was the kind that required firm hands, a big stick, and the use the gentle arts of persuasion, that could become ungentle if met incorrectly.

Other times some sought more subtle styles, the kind Vi wouldn’t mind sharing in, if she took a liking to them, professionally and or socially.

Vi observed from the corner of her eye and nursed her drink, at what she could only mark as a business woman, looking to relax. What stood out to Vi were several things, the quality of the suit, clearly tailor made and a step above any that passed through, a rich dark blue that could’ve risen from the ocean depths, a dress shirt a white of purest clouds, both a quality that Vi didn’t doubt would match how one dreamt a cloud would feel.

One hand holding a black hand purse in her lap, the other holding a drink on the counter, a prosthetic of black and white, the business woman stared at it, her look one of pure offense, as if that the small glass of amber liquid had personally offended her somehow.

She’d been that way for a few solid silent minutes, the weathered bartender Bart dutifully cleaning a glass idly, not probing or pressing. He’d been paid handsomely, so he paid extra attention to not pay any attention, but eyes flickering made it clear he’d be ready in an instant for any request.

Just when Vi thought to make her move, the business woman stood up, onyx heels clacking on the stained floor, pushing the stool she’d been in back, the scrape echoing in the quiet interior. 

Leaning over the counter, beckoning to the tender, speaking quietly in his ear when he drew near.

Vi mentally cursed, taking a long sip of her drink, wishing she hadn’t made the promise not to plant bugs throughout the bar, and bother to honor it.

Though it did come with benefits, namely a quiet place for her to drink and work discreetly given the owners permission, Vi’s curiosity flared up in that moment.

Finishing speaking and replying wordlessly by nodding, the woman took her drink, making her way to the booth in the back, positioned so one would have a great view of the counter, but be veiled for privacy from other angles. Bart surprisingly went straight to Vi afterwards, reaching under and taking out a bottle to top her off, tilting his head down and whispering conspiratorially at the same. “Scary rich lady got your tab for tonight, says she’ll see you if you want to get a better look.”

Confident in her way of appearing uninterested or consumed by the drink, Vi chalked up being made so easily due to being the only other person there, and trying to recall the last time she paid properly on her tab.

She lifted her glass in one hand and took a sip, catching the few drops that risked spilling over as she got off her seat, plucking the bottle from the tenders hands by the neck, eliciting a mere shake of his head at the familiar act.

Bringing both to the table and sliding in and across from business woman, Vi gave what more than a few in a similar position, had called a devilish grin. “Thanks for the drinks,  _ señora _ ..?”

“Sita, just Sita.” Sita voice voice came out dry and business like, fitting for her outfit, sitting just as tense and in the same position on the table, as when she had been seated by the counter.

“Sita, how divine. Call me Vi.” Placing the goods in hand down, the clink of glass on wood echoed briefly in the gap between them, sweet music to Vi’s ears. “What brings you here?”

“This place was recommended by a coworker. He told me it was perfect for me, quiet, out of the way, and might hold what I’m looking for.” Sita picked up her glass, holding it around the rim by her finger tips, swirling the contents just under her chin, peering at it pensively. “What that is, I’m unsure of.”

“I see. Looks to me, you could use someone to talk to, to relax in good company.”

“I prefer the type that doesn’t require payment. Not that there’s any issue in that.” Sita shrugged slightly, setting her glass down, rubbing the tip of her index and thumb together.

“I’m not that type, not right now at least, and certainly not dressed for it.” Leaning back and waving at her attire, Vi dressed in a slimmed down outfit of when she ran in the Los Muertos gang, hair in the same style, minus her usual skull symbols and equipment, wearing the jacket with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. “Why not try me?”

“Alright, why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

“Not much to tell, you’ll hear my story from a lot of people living around here. Grew up restless, lost my parents, did some stupid stuff when I was young, but I got my act together. I’m the local computer specialist here, and not to brag, pretty good at what I do.” Taking a moment to drain her glass, Vi signaled to Bart, getting a grunt of acknowledgement, a pitcher of clean water and glasses arriving shortly after. “What about you?”

“I’m an architect and negotiator for a development company. I enjoy most of my work, but recently it has been, difficult. My latest assignment ending poorly hasn’t helped.”

Vi poured out water for them both, Sita taking and drinking deeply, fingers drumming the glass idly when she set it down. “An architect? Don’t see proper ones around here very often, what’s it like?” 

“Well…” Seeing her eyes gleam with a veiled excitement, Vi settled in, listening and watching Sita’s entire demeanor slowly shift. Vi feigned interest at first, but quickly turning genuine once Sita got over more mundane aspects, speaking of her travels and designs.

She painted a picture of buildings she had made, of the halls she’d wandered, of how at certain angles one could make acoustics that sang out in harmony once the presence of people came. Vi had entire modern palaces, libraries, and grand structures built in her mind’s eye, alongside it from Sita came sleek living spaces, efficient in terms of room, energy, cleaning, and comforts that could be added.

Playgrounds and parks that were things children dreamed of, schools and other educational facilities meant to feel less of cramped and contained place, and more open for all things.

All the while Vi questioned and encouraged, ordering snacks and drinks from Bart via hand signals, he’d come in and out of the bar, bringing street food on borrowed or disposable platters, from places that catered to the evening crowds. Taking the remains away whenever the two would finish, and when Sita attempted to cover it, Vi made sure to interject, using the bottle(s) as a reason to pay for the that part.

The few constants on the table, were the drinks glass each had brought, Sita’s still sitting untouched, and breathing in the atmosphere.

In breaks between bites, Vi noted from gentle probing, how Sita avoided talks that went too deeply into her family background, the most she could gleam was that they passed away after the Crisis, and that she had no other living relatives to her knowledge.

She was similar when it came to specifics of her work, saying that most of her work was confidential, until announced publicly. An offer to give a tour of what she had done in India followed after, if Vi ever found herself there, and having ample time on hand.

When the hands of the clock had gone from 8 to 10, Sita showing no signs of stopping in describing animatedly her architectural adventures, Vi didn’t care for it to cease, liking it all far more than expected.

Pausing in her hand gestures of detailing a skyscraper/solar array, Sita brought both to the the tight black bun of hair she had, loosening and shaking it out. Forming a veil for a moment, she gathered and ran her fingers through the strands, flipping it back and tucking parts of it behind her ears.

Vi mesmerized by the act, flinched when she felt the sudden presence of something at the side of her foot, the touch drifting upward to brush against her ankle. Keeping her gaze on Sita, who had rested her elbows on the table, lacing her fingers together and resting her head on them.  

“I’m sorry for going on so long.”

“Don’t be.” Responding in kind using her own lower limbs, Vi wondered if the booth and table had always been that small, or the bottle (or three) she’d been through had hit harder than she thought, Sita’s reach far more than Vi expected. “I’ve been enjoying this, in fact. Why don’t we continue this somewhere more private?”

“I’d lik-”

A sharp crack echoed through the small room, the door to the bar slamming open, standing in the doorway, a shadow cast from the streetlight outside into the dim interior, a broad shouldered man in a disheveled business suit, parts of it burnt or singed, the tie around his neck loosened and hanging by a thread. 

His demeanor and frame coupled with a closely shaven head and horseshoe moustache, gaven an impression of a prize fighter, rather than someone who matched his suit, eyes scanning the small room, a hunter seeking prey, freezing once it landed on where the two sat. “You!”

Stomping to the table, Vi recognized him though she couldn’t place a name, a local landlord and criminal leader that lived on the opposite end of town. She wondered if she’d done anything (recently) that might warrant his attention, how he had found her and her identity, and how quickly she could drain her current bottle, in time to smash it over a head.

Following after him where two similarly dressed walls of muscle, that she didn’t recognize for any local hands, one staying by the front door, the other heading to Bart who began to glare, blocking his path to Castia.

Vi, who readied herself to stand when he drew close, was shocked when Sita rose to stand in front of the table, everything about her suddenly going from loose and lively, to serious and sharp, her voice returning to the dry tone she once had. “Mr. Castia, what are you doing here? What happened to you?”

“You! You. You-! Bitch. Where are my files, the paperwork, I know it was you!” Shouting and screaming in her face, close enough for his spittle that flew to land on Sita’s suit, Vi tightened her grip on the table, the other around the neck of the bottle.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Ha. I have proof!” Wild eyed and shaking, Castia brought his right hand up, closed tight in a fist, parts of it dyed red in blood just starting to dry, he held a long scarf, a shade of blue and length that looked a match for Sita’s suit. “This, was at my house. My house that you burnt down. My house that you stole from. Explain how it got there!”

Shaking it in front of her face, Sita’s voice remained steady, tinged by a hint of anger. “I’d like to know that as well, I gave that scarf to your secretary, a gift for how well she treated me. If that is your only proof and reason to accuse me, we should consult her and the local authorities.”

“I already did, she said she lost it at first, then that it was stolen, and finally she gave the truth that she returned it to you.”

“And you believe this to be true?”

“I do, because I beat the truth of it out of her.” Raising his other fist, shaking both in front of Sita’s face, the blood on other still damp. “I’ll do the same to you, if you don’t confess.”

Vi spotted Bart reaching under the counter, to where she knew he had every tender’s friend when it came to conflicts, giving the slightest shake of her head to have him hold off, seeing how Sita still seemed calm in the circumstances.

“And where is she now Mr. Castia?”

Raising his free hand and in a blur of motion, Castia delivered what Vi would expect to be an ear ringing slap. Already lunging forward, she paused, the sound expected of the strike far more muted, and Sita’s only reaction a brief turn of her head.

The only sign there’d been a strike at all was a red smear left on her cheek, when she brought her focus back to Castia, the rest of her unmoved, causing confusion to cross Castia’s and Bart’s face, the two guards attention all towards their boss.

In that instance of Sita’s head, her eyes still wide open, Vi swore that in the light the iris and pupils had changed, a trick of the light perhaps, where they shined orange akin to an embers glow.

Castia shaking off the daze reared back, swing his fist holding the scarf next, frustration marred his brow, that turned to regret when Sita slipped past it, striking one of his legs and using her prosthetic to slam the tilted Castia onto the table.

Vi managed to snatch her glasses, the bottle, and Sita’s untouched drink from the table, the impact sending crumbs, napkins, and toothpicks into the air. In the same motion Sita took the dangling ends of the scarf, binding the arm that held it by the wrist in a twirl, adding the other when Castia lashed out wildly.

Dancing between blows and pivoting around his body, going back to back, Sita pulled the ends now over her shoulders, gritting her teeth and letting out a visceral grunt of effort, Vi was amazed at how the scarf remained intact, and didn’t even stretch in use. 

The first time it pulled both of Mr. Castia’s fists in an awkward uppercut, the second while he struggled clocked his nose, the third time he found his feet lifted in the air, his arms crossed and pressed tight against his throat.

The two guards who had hesitated when the first fist was thrown, rushed forward, the one by Bart finding a thick cudgel suddenly jabbed into his neck, going down spluttering, the other getting a well aimed (empty) glass shattered into his face from Vi, followed by a thwack from Bart to the back of the head..

Swinging Castia around, partially throwing him and dropping him in front of her, Sita kicked the back of his legs, bringing him to his knees to face his two fallen guards, easing her hold on the scarf. “Now. Mr. Castia.”

“I’ll ask again, where is your former secretary?” Ragged breathing and what could’ve been an utterance of ‘fuck you’ came from Castia, turning to spluttering, Sita rearing back and jamming a foot into his back, treating the scarf as if it were reins on a mad beast. “I won’t ask again nicely.”

“In a ditch. Outside her house.”

Hearing his reply after loosening her hold once more, Sita let go of one end, reeling the rest and wrapping it around her prosthetic, freeing Castia. She walked in front of him, staring past him in disgust. “Thankfully, I have her address. That will be all from you.”

Still catching his breath, Castia managed to raise his head, spitting out a globule of blood, that soared in an arc to land seemingly on Sita’s suit. Instead there was a shimmer, a spark, and it bounced off, landing to join the myriad of stains on the floor.

“Shie-?” Castia barely managed a word, Sita delivering a scything kick that caught him around the neck and side of his head, sending him toppling and skidding on the ground.

Brushing and straightening out her suit, Sita in a casual stride came to Vi’s side, leaning over bracing one hand on the table. Sita locked eyes, plucking first her own glass from Vi’s hands, draining it dry and placing it upside down on the table, followed by Vi’s own drink, gaze never wavering. “Shall we go?”

Vi witnessing it all, came out of her stupor at the words, releasing a held breath that had been caught in her throat, after she had distracted one of the guards. Mouth dry, she nodded eagerly, taking a swig and emptying the last of the bottle. “Let’s.”

“You, won’t, get, away.” Labored, spluttering, a tooth falling from the side of his mouth, Castia voice rang weakly out. “Bounty.”

Collapsing and losing consciousness, well timed to the roar of engines and screeching of brakes outside of the bar, ones Vi recognized from the sound. “Local gangsters, they won’t come in immediately, they actually respect Bart.”

“Then we best hurry, lead the way.” Sita took Vi’s hand, purse in one hand, the other pulling her from the booth, tossing a credit chit to Bart, who caught it and flicked a thumbs up, turning it towards the back door.

Leading the way out and into the back alley, Vi who had been surprised by the warmth, warmer than her for that matter, of Sita’s hand, and the firmness of it, stepped up once Sita paused in the outdoors. “Right, keep up.”

Dashing through the streets at nights, ducking in alleys, peering around corners, and holding each other tight, Vi couldn’t tell if the hammering of her heart was more from the exertion, or excitement. Sita, in the time seemed to trust Vi entirely to lead, finding the time to project a small screen in the palm of her prosthetic, sending messages out by moving her fingers on a circular keyboard that formed a halo just below it.

Vi caught enough of it from the corner of her eye, Sita asking a coworker to arrange medical care for the secretary, and a job offer once the police work was done involving Castia.

Turning a blind corner into another alley, thinking she had done well avoiding the various ne'er do wells, bright lights flared in front of her eyes, there were shouts, and the sound of gunshots, bouncing off the walls.

Backpedaling, but unable to fully stop, Vi felt herself get tugged out of the way, Sita looming over and pressing close. Tucked against a wall while a hail of gunfire came, Vi in her limited view breathing heavy on Sita’s chest, could just make out the faint pinging of ricocheting shots and shrapnel gouged out, on Sita’s personal shielding.

“Are you okay?” The cacophony dying down, replaced by whispers of confusion and questioning further down the way, Sita’s voice in a whisper echoed louder in Vi’s ears than anything.

“This is fine.” Vi didn’t mention or question the feel of something stiff poking her just below her navel, glancing down when Sita detached herself to peek around the corner, fingers still entwined in Vi’s. 

She wasn’t sure if to be relieved or disappointed, seeing in Sita’s free hand, down where it had been poking, instead of a purse, something resembling a pistol in it. Squeezing the trigger, the barrel split apart into three prongs, a vibrant blue glow coming from the center.

“Just a moment.” Sita leaned out from around the corner, in one fluid motion raising her hand, firing off a bright orb that crackled and shimmered with electricity. Ducking back, the pistol object smoking, she tossed it aside, where it fell Vi could see it shatter into motes of light, leaving a faint burn mark where it was. 

Pained groans, cries, and curses came, followed by dead silence, and then what sounded to Vi like bulbs bursting.

The bright light suddenly cut out, Sita stepped out, Vi following after, to see an alley full of still bodies, still breathing or convulsing, picking their way past the lot. At the end of the narrow alley, there was the remains of the front of a truck, the hood caved in and the lights exploded. “How much farther?”

“Just a block.”

Spending time to ensure they lost any followers, the two traveled in silence, not stumbling across any more ambushes or roving hunters. 

The two soon came to stand near a mostly intact, but dilapidated two story store in a Crisis ruined part of town. The windows boarded up and the faded billboard above marking it as, ‘Sunshine Styles’, the -shine part had faded, leaving behind -sh, and in spray painted graffiti -it on the other half.

“Here we are, entrance is in the back.” Setting off, Vi was met with resistance, Sita standing still in the shadows. “Something wrong?”

“No, but before we go any further, I’d like to know your real name.”

“Would you believe me if I said it was Olive?” Vi came back to face Sita, slipping an arm around to hold Sita, looking up into her eyes. Sita tilted her head down to meet the gaze and Vi saw without a doubt, the doubt they held. “Sombra. Your turn.”

“Mine is-” Giving a wry grin, she spun Sombra around, going into a dip. “-something you’ll have to earn.”

Sombra was left speechless, stunned even after put back on her feet, Sita separating and striding to the back, adding a gentle sway of her hips, that Sombra hurried after.


	2. Chapter 2

Shelves of electronics, a workstation that was a mix of a tattoo artist and mechanic’s mess, all of it illuminated by the various functioning electronics and indicators. Sombra weaved her way through it all, keeping a close eye on Sita who trailed after, figure outlined in the moonlight that filtered through the cracks of the boarded back door they’d entered.

Her face wore a grimace, lingering at times, to nudge odds and ends in her path.

“It’s better upstairs.” Sombra reach her goal among the clutter, tucked just to the side of the workstation in the shadows of a shelf, a door that led upwards. “Just a sec.”

“Mmm.”

Fishing out a ring of keys from her jacket pocket, Sombra made a show of fiddling with it and the lock, keeping her body turned to obscure her free hand, tapping a pattern on the masked keypad built into the door. Behind her the sounds of metal clinking and clattering came where Sita stood, that once a satisfying click came and the door swung outward, Sombra glanced to see what had been done.

“Sunny might have an issue with that.” Sombra when she walked past it, had seen a loose pile of tools on a stand atop a metallic tray, Sita standing by it, had shuffled it around, arranging and organizing the mass.

“Sunny?” Sita came over to Sombra, peering past Sombra to see a narrow staircase, string lights flickering on, a landing at the top where another door was ajar, only darkness behind it.

“My roommate, we both work from here, she does great tattoos.” Tapping the side of one of her cranial implants, she put a foot on the first step of the stairs, leaning out of the doorway “And ink. If you ever have an interest, I’m sure she’ll give you a nice discount.”

“Noted.” 

Sita kept close to Sombra, who ascended, throwing the door up top in a flourish, flicking a switch on the wall, a set of ceiling fans and lights came on, to reveal a large room. Going to the center at the foot of the bed, Sita did a slow circle, tanking in what was an interconnected kitchen, living room, and bedroom, another doorway nearby leading to bathroom.

Sombra was glad the she had kept things clean, the interior a step up in size, but still the quality of a nice hotel room, if a little bare bones outside of the essentials. Wooden flooring and carpeted sections, tile in the cooking and bathing areas, the most fleshed out was the living room area with a sofa and armchair in front of a screen on the wall, and the sizable bed, that included a mash up of cushions by the headboard.

“Hold on, you were hit?” In the better lighting, Sombra hopped out of her shoes, leaving them by the door and approaching Sita, shutting it in the same motion and spinning her around once she came close, examining her clothing. 

Sita tensed at the initial touch, relaxing and tilting her head down to see where Sombra’s eyes went. “Seems that way, I don’t feel a thing.”

“You should let me examine you.” Sombra saw little in front, the arms of the suit showing cuts, from what she suspected were grazes, at the back a different story came to light, a handful of holes were spread throughout, but no dark stains from anything seeping as far as she could see. “Just in case.”

“Are you also a doctor?”

“No.” Biting her tongue, Sombra refrained from mentioning the several doctorates she held under various aliases, though she never went through any proper procedure to acquire them. “But I’ve picked up a few things.”

“Very well.” Turning to face Sombra, Sita began to undo the buttons of her jacket. “I assume I’ll need to strip?”

“Please-!” Sombra cleared her throat, taking a step back and bumping into the edge of the bed, feeling herself grow warm at the eagerness of her reply, not meeting Sita’s gaze. “I mean, of course.”

Keeping her eyes trained on Sita, Sombra soon found herself having to sit on the bed to watch, each motion flowed into another, as each piece became loosened..

The heels and socks Sita had worn through the night came off first, slipped out of, she swept them aside in an arc across the floor, keeping on her toes, and grounded still. She shrugged off her jacket next, pivoting and presenting her back to Sombra, holding it up still, elbows tucked. “Anything?”

“You look good so far.”

Coming back around in a measured twirl, Sita freed her arms and partially folding it in the same act, tossing and draping it over the nearby sofa, the scarf soaring after unfurled from around the left wrist. Next came the cufflinks and buttons on the shirt, something Sombra had known to be difficult with a prosthetic, yet Sita did it deftly and swiftly.

Sita traced her curves, tugged it open little by little, taking one arm out, then the other, holding it in her hands to cover the front of her body for a moment, before adding it to the sofa. Sombra found herself crossing her legs where she sat, stilling the urge to fidget and rub them together, finding the white bra Sita wore austere, but it made the rest of her ark skin stand out more, a few faints beads of sweat shining on it.

Sombra was less pleased and more shocked once Sita removed her pants, rocking in place and undoing the clasp and zipper from the top, she managed without hands to make each side fall, inching downward without her hands to pool at her feet. “Commando. Bold.”

“Ah, unintentional. It became a gift, one I’m glad wasn’t found alongside the scarf.” Taking her hair and pulling it over one shoulder in one hand, once more Sita showed her back to Sombra, lifting a strap of her bra with the other. “Could you lend a hand?“

“Happy to.” Sombra jumped at the chance, taking a second to steady her hands, she went to the hooks in the back, undoing them, she hesitated holding the ends.

“Well?” Sita’s voice calm and clear, turned to look over her shoulder at Sombra.

“I was thinking, I’m not seeing any injuries, but I should probably be more. Hands-on.”

“By all means.”

Resting her hands on Sita’s back, Sombra slid her hands upward under the bra straps, bringing them down while brushing her fingers over Sita’s shoulders in a rush, the length of her arms, guiding from behind to lower at her side. Pressing closer and hooking the bra on a thumb once it came down, Sombra threw it over to the rest of the clothing. 

Sombra, nearly embracing Sita at that point, gently grasped her wrists, leisurely drawing her fingertips upward. A mental image of where the cuts and marks in both jacket and shirt in mind, overlapping in what she saw and felt, finding no injuries on the arms.

Despite the welcome distraction of Sita’s bare body, Sombra made sure she focused on searching for any recent signs of harm, finishing the arms and moving on to the back. 

Sombra applied a hint of more pressure, tracing muscular groups, the pointed lecture she’d been given in a situation somewhat similar by a medical acquaintance, ringing in her ear the names of each.

She found there was a softness on the surface, but toned underneath, going lower into a crouch and rounding to the front of Sita’s thighs, it became even more evident. Stopping herself from, admiring, for too long there, Sombra resisted the urge to rest her head against them.

Coming back up and to the rear, cupping the cheeks, Sombra gave both a squeeze. “Finished, you’re fine.Very fine.”

“You have my thanks. Now.” Doing a lazy pirouette, Satya draped her arms over Sombra’s shoulders. “Is there anything you want in return?”

Hands hovering by Sita’s hips and closing around once she finished revolving, Sombra sized up the front she had felt more than she’d seen, eyes rising to meet Sita’s. “I can think of a number of things.”

Sita let out a soft snicker, one that Sombra wanted to just wrap herself in. “Pick one. And we’ll see where the night takes us.”

“Off the top, if you’re up for it, I’d like to see more of what you did in the bar.”  
“I’ll need two things, I hope you can provide. Suitable rope-” Leaning down to press her forehead to Sombra’s, her voice fell to a whisper. “-and a safeword.”

Sombra gave the 1st came easily, giving a hushed reply in Sita’s ear, the 2nd came with a second of regret, from having to seperate to prepare. Reaching under the bed and bringing out a case, rummaging among the odds and ends it held, the jingled and jangled, and in one case squeaked. Sombra plucked a specialized bundle, bowing and presenting it like an offering to Sita, kicking the case back under. “Should I strip down as well?”

“If you’ll indulge me, the jacket and below can go.” Taking the lengths in hand slapping it against her palm, Sita hummed in thought, sizing Sombra up. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

Treating it with less ceremony, still putting an effort to give a semblance of a show in her haste, Sombra undressed, throwing her clothes out of sight onto the sofa. Sita took to her task as a tailor would in measurements, brusque in her speech, to lift an arm or shift a leg, yet tender in her touch, when it came to passing a loop over, adding a knot, and tightening.

Sombra fidgeted at points, earning a swat whenever Sita deemed it too much, in addition to a harsh click of the tongue. More so when she went downward and added a specific binding, that rubbed Sombra the right way, every testing tug and tightening made it tougher on her.

Sita took a step back, seemingly finished and admiring her work, havine bound Sombra’s arms in the back by her forearms, linked to a harness that had spread on her body, down to her thighs and what was between. “How is it?”

“Exquisite.” Twisting and turning with care, finding little discomfort, Sombra gave a brief test, the jerk of bonds only causing her to squirm, already weak in the knees. “Though it’s. A little hard to stand.”

“Then don’t.” Sita lightly shoved Sombra’s shoulders, sending her toppling backwards on her back to the bed, knees bent and hanging over the edge. “Better?”

Putting up no resistance to the act, Sombra just raised her head, hearing the creak of the mattress and seeing Sita move on top of her on all fours. “Very.”

“In that case” Sita soon came to straddle Sombra’s head, hovering over and blocking most of her view. “You should give thanks.”

Sombra managed a muffled reply, before she began to lap away, licking the edges of the folds and craning her neck at points for better reach, she ran her lips over Sita’s clit, taking it in and circling it with the tip of her tongue. She avoided using her legs or the rest of her body, trying to keep the knot at her own slit still as she could, wanting to concentrate more on Sita. It wasn’t long until Sita began to grind against Sombra’s mouth, pressing down and holding her head tight in her thighs. The growing dampness that soon came, was followed by a slight stiffness in Sombra, that she felt slowly start to build.

Sita out of chance or from some tell Sombra wasn’t aware of, chose that time to ease up, backing up enough to look straight down at her. “Feel like a change?”

Eyes flickering open, panting and catching her breath, Sombra could only nod in response. Sita in turn changed her position, to face the foot of the bed, her hands reaching to pull at the sides of the harness, lowering herself once again.

Sombra resumed what she had been doing, her pace becoming erratic at points from Sita, plucking the strands so parts would dig deeper, adding her fingers to adjust the lines, tending to Sombra by running them between her own folds, curling in and out of the opening between the bindings there.The first time she peaked, Sita pressed down, a comforting weight while she quivered and shuddered, the second drew a pause, and a tilt of Sombra’s perspective.

Sita, grabbing at the harness and using her thighs to hold Sombra’s head, turned the two on to their sides, diving back in and adding her tongue to the mix alongside her fingers. At that point between the shared moans and gasps that seemed to spur each other on, Sombra couldn’t tell if Sita herself went over the edge, getting lost in the haze of the act.

After the third drew a hoarse cry from Sombra, Sita slowed, separating and panting after the exertion, she rolled to rest beside Sombra. “Should we go on?”

“Maybe. Ask me in a minute. After I get your name.” Sombra’s voice came out in a breathless purr, turning to look towards Sita, who had done the same.

A silence hung in the air for a moment, only the sound of breathing between the two in the gap, Sita breaking it by clearing her throat. “Satya.”

“”A pleasure meeting you Satya, Sat-ya, Sa-ah-” Sombra drew out and spoken Satya’s name in various ways, slurring her speech, putting on an accent, keeping it up and getting a chuckle.

“Are you still drunk?”

“Not at all, this has all been very sobering.”

Sitting up and stretching, Satya shook her hair out, freeing the strands that had stuck in various places. “If we’re done for now in bed, I’d like to take a shower. Care to join me?”

“Sure, once you undo these ro-” Lifted into the air in Satya’s arms, stiff at the suddenness, Sombra relaxed and went limp after a second. “-pes.”

“Certainly, I can redo them afterwards, if you like.” Stepping into the bathroom, the light turning on at their presence, Satya shut the door with her foot.


	3. Chapter 3

“Sombra.”

Hearing a familiar voice speaking softly, Sombra still lingered in the comforting daze of slumber, rolling over and pulling the covers tight.

“Sombra.”

“It’s a little early.” Sombra muttered a reply, hearing the insistent edge the second time.

“Sombra!” 

In growl punctuated by the impact of something to the side of her head and staying there, Sombra’s eyes shot open, her view obscured by whatever had hit. “Layoff Satya.”

“So that’s her name, has a nice ring to it.”

Sombra blinked a few times, realization dawning on her, she tugged away the covers and the one in her face, sitting up and finding her jacket in hand. “Morning Sunshine.”

“That never gets old.” At the foot of the bed stood Sunny, a tattered apron over her usual tanktop and jean shorts, scratching the back of her head, shaking her messy ponytail of silver hair. “It’s closer to noon.”

“Come on, we’re celebrating.” Turning her back to Sombra, Sunny went back to the stove, the scent of cinnamon, bacon, and eggs wafting over, taking the spatula in her prosthetic hand to the pans there.

“Celebrating what?”

“Won a bet about Castia, fuckers going down, finally. How was your night, with this, Satya?” 

“It was-” Stumbling out of bed Sombra bee lined for the bathroom, flicking on the light and seeing the results of the night in the mirror. Taking off one of Sunny’s oversized tank tops, that Sombra couldn’t getting in, she apparently hadn't slept in anything else.

Faded red lines marked her body, only a faint soreness from the spots, and her wrists were in a similar state, rotating and massaging the area. “-nothing special. Did you see her out?”

“Yeah, about an hour ago. Caught her sitting on the bed by you at first, fully dressed and rocking that suit of hers, despite the damage.”

Sombra began to wash up, tracing a few of the hickeys on her neck, recalling how she had gained them in the shower, that had lasted too long. 

“Real sweetheart, didn’t want to wake you, but didn’t want to leave without a word. Apparently she had a flight to catch.” The clatter of dishes and the fading hum from the electric stove being shut off, accompanied Sunny’s words. “Folded your clothes, changed out the sheets, cleaned the ropes. You really lucked out.”

“Luck. Right.” Thinking back to the start of the night, organizing her thoughts and the events, part of her swore she’d woken earlier in the predawn. 

Uncertain if it was reality or a dream, she had the vivid memory of having Satya’s arms draped around her, facing away. Waking not to an overheated self that she’d come to expect, but instead a finding balance with something cold wrapped around her lower body.

Unable to see in the gloom, she knew she had been on top of the covers for sure, yet she could barely move her lowers limbs, tangled in something. Something that moved when she did, that was heavy as several blankets when she went against it, yet rested loose enough that it was a comfort when she didn’t.

Undulating, Sombra settled on the word when whatever held her was idle, accepting her position when she couldn’t get out, and finding it causing no real harm. She eventually fell back asleep, and or the dream ended in ease, the fact Satya breathed calmly and seemed all but at ease in the moment, reinforced Sombra’s train of thought.

“You almost done in there? This stuff is best hot you know. ”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” Splashing her face with water one last time, shaking the loose droplets on her hands away, she put on the tank top once more, adding undergarments from a drawer. 

Emerging from the bathroom, Sombra practically fell upon the kitchen table, seeing the spread laid out. Fresh fruit, eggs and bacon, pitchers of drinks, the crowning piece of it all were a plate piled high with french toast.

Sombra spared no time digging in, Sunny having already started, at a much slower pace.   
“You know, she left you a note, contact info and everything.” Reaching into an apron pocket using her prosthetic hand and pulling out a folded piece of paper, Sunny held it between two fingers, waving it over towards Sombra.

Mouth full, Sombra nodded, freeing a hand to reach out and take it, frowning when Sunny pulled back, waving a finger back and forth.

“Not so fast, what’s it worth to ya?”

Sombra swallowed, taking her time and washing the food down with a swig of water. “What do you want?”

“How about details?” Sunny smirked, tucking the paper in her shirt, using her free hand to load her plate again.

“I’m not one to kiss and tell, pick something else.” Sombra reached over the small table to stab and take another hunk of toast, not looking at Sunny, but still giving a slight lunge to try and snatch the paper away in the same motion.

Sunny just slid her chair back, taking her plate with her and eating from it still. “Uh-huh, ‘nothing special’, yet you brought her here. Whatever, I won’t press, how about what your next job is?”

“Fine, something to do with LumériCo, I haven’t looked into it yet.” Sombra put out her hand, palm up and open, closing her fingers around the note, after Sunny passed it over. 

“I look forward to seeing your exploits.”

Continuing the meal in silence, Sombra flipped open the paper, scanning it over, finding it held all Sunny had said. “Vaswani…”

Sombra had a notion of recognition, enough to make the back of her skull itch, she waved a hand and projected a few screens. Opening up her usual news feeds and searching in another window Satya Vaswani, Sombra let herself focus be drawn into all of it, bringing her legs up onto the chair, and drumming a fork on her plate, still half-full. 

Drawing a sigh from Sunny, who shook her head at the sight, getting up and clearing a few dishes. “You’re going to make a mess multitasking like that.”

Tossing a few into the sink and rinsing her hands off, Sunny made her way around the table to Sombra, delivering a quick peck to the side of her head. “You can get the dishes.”

“Sure, sure.” Sombra nodded and listened with half-an-ear, paying little attention to Sunny as she left the room and headed downstairs.  
Skimming the local headlines, most were centered around Castia and a leak of records of his illegal activities, corroborated by his secretary, who was in the hospital after being attacked by him. It seemed she had suspicions but lacked evidence, and more than a few articles speculate that she is behind the leak.

None of the reports made any mention of Castia’s whereabouts or the incident in the evening.

Sombra eventually found a magazine article she’d seen in passing, a familiar face plastered to the front, an up and coming architect of the modern age. Thinking of how different both their lifestyles and work were, Sombra had doubts she’d see Satya anytime soon, until she read a message about the details of her next assignment, that made her let out a single raucous laugh.

“Investigate negotiations between LumériCo and Vishkar.”

**Author's Note:**

> This started initially as a take on the start of their relationship later expanded and mentioned in 'Science and Silence', and would be with a little bit of editing and adjustments. Ended up reading and researching a bunch of mythos and histories, and decided to change things up to a make it a start for a more, fantasy/monstrous OW world.


End file.
